


Birds of a Feather

by Jupiterra



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Crack, M/M, Past prucan, Weird Gods, sexy BLTs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-17
Updated: 2019-11-17
Packaged: 2021-02-07 18:14:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21462382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jupiterra/pseuds/Jupiterra
Summary: Matthew is a bird god, taking flight for a new love. Gilbert, the god of war, is not pleased.
Relationships: Canada/Netherlands (Hetalia), Canada/Prussia (Hetalia)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 44





	Birds of a Feather

The white haired male's eyes were red from tears... or blood. It was hard to tell. Gilbert was the pale god of war, so crying blood sometimes was just a side benefit. The tears, or blood, or possibly bloody tears, had a crushing reason.

In the centre of his domain, past the blades, skulls, and valiant trophies of victims, was a cage. It was gilded in gold and treasures. It was spoils of war that drove mortals mad. It had been a protective cage forged with wrathful love and the urge to protect.

It was built to house the most beautiful creature in all of eternity. The god of birds, Matthew, had been the feather in Gilbert's cap for the last century or so. A fling by deity standards, but it had been fun. 

World War One, Matthew had been okay with things. World War two was somewhat rocky. Matthew was suddenly not content to be Gilbert's black eagle of doom. He wanted to take flight in a new direction, much like birds were want to do.

Ivan, the current god of suicide, had warned Gilbert of this. Matthew was impossible to keep, or so many warned. Still the lesser god was a beautiful golden canary. He carried a tune that soothed even Gilbert's violence addicted heart. It was pure luck that Gilbert entranced the flighty thing into a relationship at all.

So, here he was, bleeding his eyes out over this empty cage of love. From the silky black shadows, Ivan crawled forth, looking manic yet exhausted as always. The god of suicide was an opportunist, if nothing else. The domain of dying was too much to carry by any one creature, split into many many subtypes.

“Go away Ivan!” Gilbert sniffled, wiping his eyes free of the blood of millions.

“So sad! So terrible... Doesn't it make you want to end it all? It's okay to rest lapushka... All you have to do is kill yourself... death makes everything better...” Ivan whispered sibilant thoughts of darkness, slithering about Gilbert like a thousand snakes.

“Shut up you wind bag!” Gilbert cut the irritating bastard in half with a summoned axe, but it was a moot gesture. Ivan giggled madly, rolling about on the floor in his own blood. He painted a smiley face of gore on himself, an absolute lunatic.

“Nothing you do matters Gilbert! You might as well end it all!”

Gilbert rolled his eyes, sniffling once more. This was typical chatter from Ivan, a promoted Slavic forest spirit of mischief. “I'm gonna... gonna win him back.” the paler male whispered

“No one can contain him. He was the god of wind for 1,000 years! You think a 300 year old god of war can hold the wind? Oh ho ho, your blades are only good for cutting the innocent... _kill yourself Gilbert, do the world a favour_...

After several minutes of ignoring molesting shadows and persistent depression, salvation came. It was Alfred, the god of guns. He was a rather cheerful guy, looking exactly like an NRA advertisement from the 1950's. He had a strong base in the americas as a whole, despite his adorable freckled youth.

“Gee wiz boss man, I could feel your urge to kill from Tennessee! Can I help? Who are we enabling into mass shooting? Oh, can I be a glock this time?” Alfred jostled around in excitement, the most happy of the death subtypes.

Ivan instantly ignored Gilbert, regaining benign corporeal form. He picked up Alfred in a big hug. “My Fedya! I got several teenagers to kill themselves using guns! Did you like your birthday present?”

Alfred squealed with joy. “I did! I did you freaky monster! You're so dark and lingering!” The two were known to be in a semi-serious relationship since World War One, both absolutely nuts.

“I want you to kill the idiot that stole my gilbird!” Gilbert ordered cruelly, blood escaping ruby red eyes of rage.

“Yes sir! It's my patriotic duty!” Alfred cheered, pulling a M-16 out from his smaller business blazer.

“Oh I can convince the person to shoot their entire family in a murder homicide!” Ivan crooned.

“I love when you talk like that darling. Let's make tender love in the puddles of their blood later.” Alfred whispered in Ivan's locks of hair, making the taller man shiver.

“Christ, just go already!” Gilbert snapped.

The two death gods grinned insanely, both blowing kisses as they sank into shadows and vanished.

00000

Lars was truly having a blessed voyage. The winds had favoured his sails for many days. More so, the local sea birds were very friendly. A large Canadian goose had taken to sitting on top of the cabin and keeping Lars company. It was rather docile and happy to see him.

Unknown to most, Lars was the long retired god of seafaring. His true strength had died at the end of the last century, when most of the world's pirates were hung. He was lucky to get a good gust some days now.

The grizzled sea captain carefully cradled the last of his fries from the local harbour. “Hey buddy. You want a french fry?”

The goose honked and ambled over on drunk webbed feet. It gobbled down some fries, clearly a happy avian.

“Aren't you just the cutest goose.”

The bird sat at his feet, content to eat floor food and vaguely cuddle. Well that settled it. This cute fella was going to get spoiled!

After eating the lettuce out of Lars's BLT, their time together was ended. A young man crawled out of the ocean, perfectly dry and clean after only a few seconds. He pulled shot gun out from behind his form, loading it. A shadowy form solidified beside him, wearing soviet gear and carrying his own Makarov pistol.

“Alfred... Ivan... what do you want?” Lars sighed. Did the goose look _angry_ at these death god interlopers?

“My boss wants his boyfriend back. Golly it would be a real help if you handed him over.” Alfred greeted, well known by Lars. They used to play on the oceans together, ruining tourist boat trips.

“I have no idea what you're talking about... but I'm not a pirate spirit anymore. So... go bug a high school or something.” Lars dismissed them easily, familiar with all the death players.

The goose hissed and fluffed it's feathers in anger, honking at the two death spirits.

“Well, gee. I can't go saying that to Gillie. That would be rude!” Alfred chided.

Ivan shook his head. “I get it comrade. After that Christmas party? Even I wanted to kill myself.”

The goose seemed soothed after that, anxiously nibbling his floor lettuce.

“Well, he won't be happy. But I'll tell him that.” Alfred saluted them after, cheerful as he jumped into the ocean he crawled out of.

“Fuck off and die!” Ivan bid goodbye in sing song, giving up rather easily. There was faster suicide targets he could erode apart. With his form dissipating into smoke, only the mystery goose was left behind.

“So who are you little goose?” Lars whispered, offering a tomato slice.

The chatty goose suddenly had little to say, scrunching small in anxiety.

“I won't judge you. You can even have my entire BLT.” Lars cooed, petting the creature softly.

The bird considered it, then gave a hearty honk. In a mess of feather downy and magic, the goose was now a beautiful naked male. He was freckled and pale, hiding shyly behind wavy locks of pale gold. “Hi...” he whispered, his voice like the winds. No doubt the god had been the wind at one point.

“Well... Aren't you... um... Are you cold? I have a sweater in the cabin.” Lars babbled, not sure where to look. This god was obviously powerful, looking so fit and... _youthful_. Nothing like Lars's salt grizzled exterior after centuries of sailing.

“So kind...” the bird spirit whispered, eating the BLT right out of Lars's hands. It was a downright erotic sight. “I'm Matthew, the former north wind.”

“I'm... Lars... A retired god of voyages, and a little bit of piracy. I'm just... me now but.. I um...” He was flustered as mayo from his lunch was sucked off his fingers sensually. It had been a _while_ for the ancient dutch sailor.

“I repay those that treat me kindly.” Matthew whispered, pressing close with his naked everything.

“I um, I... Wow okay, I'm just a little...” Lars stammered, blushing as kisses laced up his arms.

He spent the rest of the day in his cabin, learning just how fun playing with the winds was.


End file.
